


Perpetual Rhythm

by GreggeryKunkle



Category: Neil Peart - Fandom, Original Work, Rush (Band), Science Fiction - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Music, Original work - Freeform, Science Fiction, Universal Motion, alien life, life journey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 09:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30036816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreggeryKunkle/pseuds/GreggeryKunkle
Summary: DisclaimerPerpetual Rhythm is a work of science fiction. In absolutely no way am I implying anything in this story is real. The actions and words of every character are pure fiction. Especially those of the late Mr. Neil Peart.Nothing in my story is meant to disrespect, disparage, or imply falsehoods or facts about Mr. Peart, his family, or the remaining members of the band Rush.Perpetual Rhythm is exclusively meant as my personal homage to the late Mr. Neil Peart, drummer for the band Rush.DedicationI was inspired to write Perpetual Rhythm one week after Mr. Peart’s death, after reading what I consider an epic writing prompt by a friend and fellow Rush fan. I owe the creation of this story to Christopher Cook’s wonderful bit of creativity.Perpetual Rhythm is my incredibly small and humble way of honoring Mr. Neil Peart, who had a significant impact on my life through his song lyrics and musical talents.A Rush of SerenityThe most serene road trip of my entire life was made possible because of Rush.After immensely enjoying Rush in concert on June 21st, 1992 (Roll the Bones tour) in Pittsburgh PA, I had a two-hour trip home to western Maryland. It had been a very hot summer day, and it was still in the low 90’s at midnight. The local radio station continued to play nothing but Rush songs for hours after the concert. Late at night, I had the roads to myself with the windows down in a classic 1966 Chevy Chevelle.It was as close to a few hours of perfect serenity as I have ever experienced in my life. I would be extremely remiss if I could not in some very small way honor at least one of those who gave me such a wonderful gift.
Kudos: 2





	Perpetual Rhythm

Soren was on his knees in the middle of the sidewalk. He was in shock, lost in pain and sadness. The weight of defeat nearly pushed him into the ground. How would he go on? How would he continue with his personal journey? 

People stared at him as they passed. He didn’t care. He had just learned of Neil Peart’s death. He couldn’t believe it. One of the greatest drummers in rock-and-roll history, and his personal inspiration and idol, was gone.

Neil not only set him on the path of a drummer but was also the reason he had been looking for the “Rhythm Masters”. He had no idea who or what they were, but he gave over fifteen years of his life searching for them.

Nostalgia, bittersweet now, flooded him. He had met Neil only twice. Both meetings drastically changed his life. 

Even through his grief and flood of memories, he felt he was before a critical crossroad in his life. What he did next was very important. Such an odd thought to have! 

He had to pick himself back up. His grief was nothing compared to the tragedy Neil had faced in his life. “Get up!” he mentally screamed. 

Rising from the cobblestoned walk, he collected himself. Picking his small backpack from the ground he continued into the small town, deep in thought. There was no chance of making it to any memorial service. Besides, it wasn’t his style to pry into the private lives of others. It would be rude to intrude now.

He needed to find another way to pay his respects. To pay homage to his personal hero. That was it! He would play an homage to Neil Peart! Instantly, the need to play became overwhelming. The rest of the world faded behind this sudden urge.

He looked around quickly. He must find a music store, a live theater, or a school. Anyplace that would have instruments. He frantically questioned anyone he could find. Where could he find musical instruments? He was chasing people away with his near maniacal demands. He forced himself to settle down. 

Finally, someone directed him to the local music store only two blocks away. 

Soren ran. 

Bursting into the small music shop, he saw the store was in two sections. On the left, they sold music. On the right were the instruments. 

Like a possessed mad man, he threw his pack against the wall and arranged various drums and assorted percussion instruments in a rough circle. The store owner rushed to him and started complaining. Soren ignored him, continuing to arrange the instruments in a frenzy. Grabbing a small rotating stool, he quickly placed it in the center and played. 

He was instantly lost in his music. A look of joy and sorrow on his face as he played. As usual, he was aware of his missing long hair. Having it fly and dance around his head as he played was a luxury of having hairdressers. As a member of a successful band, an entourage was a necessity. On his own, traveling the world, short hair was far more convenient. 

The store owner stood watching for a time. The longer he played, the less the owner seemed angry. It was a warm summer day, and the store windows were open. His music was heard on the streets. People began coming into the store to listen. The store owner merely shrugged his shoulders and gave a puzzled gesture when asked about Soren. The owner quickly became busy with customers as they flooded into the store. 

Soren only noticed vaguely that day had surrendered to night and the store owner was trying to get his attention. He finally stopped trying and turned off the lights. If he thought this would stop Soren, he was wrong. After hours of playing, Soren knew where every instrument was with his eyes closed. 

He continued to pour out his rhythmic lament in the darkness without pause. His sadness colored the joy of playing his homage. His heart and soul, his sorrow, his love, his tribute, pouring out through the sticks in his hands. He knew where his rhythm was going, while being lost in it. 

The movement of people. Day and night. The concept of time. All faded away from him. A mystic rhythm possessed him. His entire being was the music, the rhythm, the beat. 

Even with his eyes closed, and in the darkness, he sensed everything around him. He felt more than he saw waves emanating from the instruments every time he struck them. Everything brightened for a second as the waves of sound crashed over them. The other instruments, the shelves, the walls, windows, floor, and ceiling. Everything pulsed in sync with his playing. He had experienced nothing like this before. 

Wait, he didn’t just sense the objects, they also moved! Everything was in motion! He sensed the movement of the very molecules that made up everything around him! He could see waves of rhythm emanating from the instruments. He saw them wash over the molecules and set them in motion. The furniture, buildings, and the concrete they rested on. Even the very earth and rocks below him vibrated in synchronicity with his rhythm!

What was this?

This was unlike any drug trip he had ever experienced. Surprised, he felt his consciousness drift outward from him. He reached out to the windows before him, vibrating to his rhythm. If he could just touch it. So close… almost there…

His consciousness suddenly drew back. Reality rudely intruded. He fought it. He did not want to stop playing. His entire being ached to play. But as hard as he tried to stay in his music, life inserted itself again. 

His playing quickly slowed. His entire body hurt. He was exhausted. The rhythm left him. He missed beats and dropped sticks. Surprise at finding a group of people staring at him in the daylight only lasted a second. He fell from the stool, crashing into the instruments.

He was dizzy. 

Everything was a blur. 

Someone was over him saying something.

He couldn’t understand. 

Unconsciousness overwhelmed him. 

…

Soren awoke with a start. He was in a small, well worn, rustic bedroom. Muted light streamed in the smallish window, lighting the personal items in the room. The order of things suggested an organized person. 

He felt sore all over and physically drained. But nature demanded relief. Weakly, he swung his legs around and stepped down. He promptly collapsed onto the hardwood floor. Thrashing around pitifully, he tried to get up. The door opened. The store owner rushed in and began picking him up. 

Soren mumbled, “Bathroom.”

The owner helped him to the small bathroom. When they passed a mirror, he saw severe bedhead staring back at him. His greying dirty blonde hair was a ridiculous mess. He needed to do something about that. It made this embarrassing situation worse.

After cleaning himself as best he could, Soren stumbled back out. The owner helped him again, easing him back onto the bed. 

“What happened?” 

“I would ask you the same thing,” the owner replied. 

“I remember entering your store and beginning to play. Then everything faded away, and I was lost in my music, until I crashed.”

“What possessed you to play as you did?”

“I wanted to play an homage to someone recently passed, who is very important to me. Yet, I somehow felt compelled to play for something even greater. I couldn’t stop myself. It was almost like something else possessed me. I saw… no, felt something. I don’t understand it.”

The owner’s eyes narrowed for a split second as if Soren had said something significant. But the look was gone instantly. 

“You made quite the scene. Many people came to watch the unstoppable drummer. I have never seen such a thing! How could you play for so long?”

“What do you mean? How long did I play?”

The store owner looked incredulously at Soren.

“You played for three days non-stop.”

This stunned him into silence. 

“You have been sleeping for nearly two days.”

Soren could only blink in confusion and shock. 

“The doctor said you collapsed because of dehydration and lack of food. She left only an hour ago after removing the IV to restore your fluids.”

“I’m starving. I need to eat,” Soren said, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. 

“Across the street is a small café with a nice menu.”

The owner nodded toward his cleaned clothes, folded neatly. 

“Thank you for that. I’m sorry for causing you trouble. I’ll pay for any damages.”

“No need, you damaged nothing. While your behavior was alarming, you caused no trouble. In fact, my business increased greatly. I’ve sold many instruments. People are still coming in. They want to see where the possessed music man played for days. So, thank you. Can you stay and play more? I will pay you very well to keep playing here.”

Soren stood and dressed, stumbling several times before putting on the blue jeans and black form fitting tee shirt. He ached all over. Even though he was in his early forties, he still maintained a lean, fit body. He felt like his fitness had been severely tested. 

“I must eat first. I will come back and talk afterwards. I’m starving. Please, I’ll be back. I promise. I must come back for my pack.” Soren said over his shoulder as he hustled out of the room. 

He was suddenly standing among many people looking about the music store. The owner lived at his store. He was instantly recognized, and the questions came at him. He felt smothered. He was starving. His body was shaking. He pushed his way through the small crowd without saying a word. Bursting out the door, he quickly located the cafe. Rushing across the street, he entered in a hurry. 

Grabbing the first thing he saw on the counter he could eat; he stuffed his mouth with a pastry and bolted it down. Grabbing more, he continued. The people behind the counter began complaining immediately. Soren motioned that he would pay for what he was eating. Nearly everyone in the cafe recognized him and began talking in hushed tones, staring.

After eating an entire plate of pastries, his hunger was satisfied enough to slow down and speak. He apologized for his behavior and immediately paid for what he had eaten. He then ordered several things on their menu and sat down at a table. 

Embarrassed, he avoided eye contact with the other customers. His thoughts raced, trying to figure out what had just happened to him. He somehow knew he had glimpsed a secret of the universe for the first time. He could not explain it. 

The TV on the wall interrupted his thoughts. The news had cut to a story about musicians and fans expressing their grief over the death of Neil Peart. His thoughts instantly shifted to his two life changing meetings with Neil.

The first time, Neil had graciously given him tips on drumming that turned a hobby into a passion and career. The advice Neil had passed on had only taken a few minutes. However, Soren spent many years of his life endeavoring to be worthy of the incredible gift those few minutes were.

The second time was ten years later. That meeting was over in seconds and was one of the strangest of his life. His band was playing at a music festival when Rush arrived in the same city on their Vapor Trails tour. He caught the Rush concert. Backstage, it was chaotic with a sizeable group of fans surrounding the band. Neil had looked at him, motioned him over, leaned in and whispered in his ear. 

“Find the Rhythm Masters.” 

That was it. Neil had turned toward other fans, never acknowledging him again. The crush of fans pushed him away and he couldn’t get close to ask further questions. He tried several times to contact Neil but received no replies. 

All thoughts suddenly left him as they set warm, delicious food before him. It was some time before his thoughts returned to the shop owner’s proposal. There wasn’t much to think about. For multiple reasons, hanging out in a small village playing music for a local music shop was not what he wanted.

After eating more food than he would normally eat in two days, he left the cafe and went back to the music store. He waited patiently for the owner to finish with a customer.

“I thought about your offer while eating. I appreciate it, but I must move on. I am very sorry for any trouble I caused you.”

“Like I said, you caused me no trouble. You helped my business with your incredible playing. I knew that would be your answer.” He handed Soren his pack. 

“That’s good to hear. I wish you good fortune. I appreciate helping me through… my recovery. Let me at least pay you for your time taking care of me. I must have been a burden. Here, please.”

He had taken a fair-sized wad of money from his pocket and handed it to the owner. The man looked at the money, pausing in thought. He reached out and peeled two large bills from the stack in Soren’s hand and pocketed them.

“Thank you. Tell me, have you ever played like that before?”

“No, never. I’ve never played that way before. I still feel compelled… to find something… and play more.” He drifted off in thought.

The store owner looked at Soren thoughtfully. He seemed to wrestle with his thoughts. But he quickly resolved his internal debate.

“You have practiced, worked hard, and played all your life. Now the rhythm calls you, doesn’t it? You cannot deny the summons.”

Soren jerked out of his musings in surprise at the owner’s words. He stared sharply at the man as he pulled a phone out of his pocket and made a call. 

“Come here now. There is another to deliver to the temple.” 

He pocketed the phone and turned to Soren. 

“I have arranged for transportation to deliver you to the place you seek.”

Soren merely stared at him incredulously, not moving. The owner grabbed his arm and guided him to the door. 

“Wait, how did you… how do you know…”

“You are not the first to pass through here with the rhythm’s call singing in your soul. I am more than a simple music store owner.” 

As they exited the store a shining red convertible rolled to a stop before him. It was a beautiful sunny day, and the top was down. It looked old, but well maintained, as if it had come from some better vanished time. A girl who looked too young to be driving was behind the wheel. 

The owner hustled him to the waiting car. Soren forced him to stop and kept looking back and forth from the car to the store owner. 

“You’re kidding me, right?” 

“What do you mean?”

“An actual red barchetta is taking me to some temple? Are you serious?”

“It’s a car, it will take you where you need to go. Get in.” 

The store owner looked at the young driver.

“Don’t use the old road again. The car isn’t made for that. Use the new road. I mean it!”

The girl mumbled something too low to hear, clearly irritated at being scolded. 

Soren got in the car, dropping his pack on the floor at his feet. Before he could close the door the engine roared, tires spitting gravel turning the landscape into a blur. The door slammed shut, nearly smashing into his leg. He turned to the driver to complain, but as he opened his mouth to speak, her index finger pressed to his lips.

“Shhhh,” was all she said. A mischievous grin on her face. He stared at the youthful girl as she navigated the car out of town. She did not drive with the reckless inexperience of a teen. She drove with an acumen beyond her apparent years. They went screaming through the valley, leaving civilization behind. The farms and flowery fields soon gave way to deep forest, with mountains only a few miles ahead. 

He tried again to strike up a conversation. Her only response was a sidelong glance and a knowing grin. When it became obvious she would not speak to him at all, Soren’s thoughts wondered. 

After Neil’s whispered request to find the Rhythm Masters, Soren became progressively distracted with his playing. He and his band were enjoying an increasingly successful career that showed no sign of stopping soon. But he could not get Neil’s cryptic request out of his head. 

It was another year before he would begin searching for the Rhythm Masters and walk away from his career. It took a strange encounter with a beautiful woman to make him fully commit. 

One night after playing particularly well, a gorgeous woman with olive toned skin had approached him. To Soren, she was exotic, mysterious, and the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her form fitting dress was expensive and combined class and sultriness perfectly.

Sexy women were routine with a rock band. But she was exquisite. As she approached him, the sway of her hips, her intoxicating curves, and the way she looked straight into his soul, all combined to stun him speechless. 

She had leaned in and kissed him passionately. A sexy Irish accent whispered in his ear, “Seek the masters of rhythm. Neil is waiting.” Her warm breath and the teasing nip at his ear sent a bolt of lightning through him, eliciting an immediate and involuntary response. She turned and walked away, leaving him heated, flustered and confused. He never saw her again. But she had haunted and delighted his dreams ever since. 

She made it impossible for him to ignore this strange challenge. Finding the Rhythm Masters quickly became an obsession. He left his very lucrative musical career the next day. 

That was over fifteen years ago and he had been searching for the Rhythm Masters since. They proved to be impossible to find, however. No one in the music industry had heard of them. He searched every place on earth dealing with music, finding nothing. 

He searched the most remote locations on earth. Cliff-side monastery’s and secluded retreats. Again, finding nothing.

He even waited for weeks and months on end at places like Stonehenge in England, the Pyramids in Egypt, and Machu Picchu in Peru, in the hope the Rhythm Masters were a traveling group that frequented ancient and mysterious places. 

Nothing. 

He found no hint or clue of them anywhere. He had been chasing a red herring. They did not exist. The thought of his idol causing him to waste over fifteen years of his life was a crushing blow. All those wasted years. He could have been enjoying an incredible music career instead of chasing ghosts around the world. 

He had given up searching and had started for home when he heard the news of Neil Peart’s death. Now he was about to ascend a mountain with a mysterious teenage girl at the wheel of a red barchetta, at the request of a seemingly innocent music store owner turned sagely.

The rough road abruptly ended his musings. The roads had become less and less traveled the further they went. They were now climbing the mountains. Every time his driver turned off a road, the new road was smaller and rougher than the one before. Until finally he worried whether they would get stuck on the mountain side, on a trail not fit for a goat, let alone a car designed for paved roads.

He was impressed, the girl could drive very well. When they came upon a road he would have considered as far as the car could go, she never hesitated, expertly navigating it. There was a giant gully worn in the road that meandered back and forth. The girl straddled the car over the gully and continued slowly up the mountain as if it was normal to have a three-foot ditch directly under the car. 

“I thought he said not to use the old road?” 

“This is the new road. You should see the old one,” she replied without looking at him. The mischievous grin returning. 

“So, you do speak.”

She ignored him and continued to drive. The road became increasingly narrow with tall brush on both sides becoming so thick it threatened to encroach into the road. Soren began to doubt his driver’s considerable skills. Even this small car soon wouldn’t fit. The brush continued to compress on them until it began scratching loudly on the sides of the car. He winced at the thought of the brush scratching the paint of such a beautiful old car. An uncomfortable feeling of suffocating weight began to descend on him. The scratching and scraping making the feeling of being smothered even worse. He was gritting his teeth at the harsh sound, wishing it to be over. His anxiety rocketed upward. 

Suddenly the road disappeared in the middle of the brush. The brush was so thick that it completely engulfed the car. Leaves and broken twigs began raining onto them, but the girl never stopped. 

“Stop! You’re insane! The road is gone!” He burst out in panic as he nearly stood up in the seat seeking desperately for an escape.

She ignored him and kept going, brush disappearing under the front of the car in a harsh cacophony. She seemed to take perverse pleasure at his distress and accelerated the car. The noise of the brush being plowed under and scratching the car became deafening. He covered his ears with his hands. Not normally claustrophobic, he was desperately fighting hysteria. 

He was about to cry out again when they suddenly popped out of the brush into a clearing on the mountainside. The abrupt change was startling. His panic fled him in a rush now that he could see. Involuntarily a sigh escaped him as his body nearly melted into the seat in relief. He instinctively raised his hands to shield his eyes from the sun. Only now did he realize how dark it had been in the thick brush and trees. 

Before them was a small village nestled on the mountainside. The village sat to the left and below of an ancient citadel. The mountain rose further above the massive edifice. 

The girl drove the car between tended fields and then between two small houses and onto a narrow path. She continued to the center of the small village, rolling to a stop beside a shapely woman who had been walking away from them. There was something familiar about the sway of her hips…

The woman stopped walking and looked at them as the car rolled to a stop beside her. He found himself staring at the exquisite woman who had kissed him so passionately over fifteen years ago. She was even more stunning than he remembered. The intervening years had only increased her beauty. She grinned as he continued to stare at her. She reached down and opened the car door, gesturing for him to get out. 

Realizing he was staring, he glanced at his driver. She smiled at him but said nothing. Around them, people went about their day as if a car suddenly appearing out of thick brush was something normal.

He exited the car, still agape at the woman of his dreams. 

“Don’t forget your bag.” 

He could listen to her rich Irish accent all day. He merely stared at her, waiting for her to speak again. She smiled even more, then glanced behind him. A look of concern flashed onto her face as she quickly reached out to him. 

His pack hit him behind the knees. He stumbled and would have fallen, but she had grabbed his arm and steadied him. 

As he recovered and turned around, the engine roared and he heard a female giggle. The car raced off toward the edge of the village in the opposite direction they had approached. It quickly disappeared around a cluster of houses. 

“Hello Soren.”

He turned to her and continued to stare, enthralled and a little embarrassed. 

“I am sorry about the girl. She is still young and petulant.”

“That’s OK. Why didn’t you tell me years ago? Why the mystery?” Soren spoke rapidly, his composure returning. 

The woman grinned at his confusion. 

“We all have our parts to play.”

She nodded her head toward the massive redoubt behind him.

“That way, they are expecting you.”

He looked again at the imposing acropolis above him. The bottom section was massive. It formed an enormous flat base for the castle rising above it. There was greenery and flowers pouring over the edge of the base, spilling down the walls. Some of it almost touching the ground below. 

He could hear and feel waves of rhythmic music. All percussion from a wide variety of instruments. All playing different tunes, yet somehow all synchronized harmoniously. One set of instruments dropped out. Another started up. Bongos, along with Caribbean steel drums.

“Ah, that is Norris. His rhythm is wonderful,” the woman said.

Soren turned toward her with his mouth open to speak.

“After listening for years, it is easy to pick out who is playing. Can you not hear your own mates playing among other musicians?” 

He closed his mouth, his question answered before he could ask it.

“That way with you. We can dally later.” She smiled coyly and pointed. There was an entrance at the lowest point of the bastion where she had indicated.

He smiled at her flirting. Picking up his pack he started for the entrance. He was smitten with this gorgeous woman even more, now that he had a glimpse of her captivating personality. 

Everyone on this strange day seemed intent on steering him toward this place. Years of searching had turned up nothing. But today, a few scant hours had brought him to… whatever this was. 

While the stones at the base were massive, the door was not overwhelmed. It too was imposing. The multitude of flowers spilling over the walls, filling the air with sweet smells, threatened to obtrude on the door. 

A door knocker shaped as an oriental dragon, the size of a German Shepard, climbed down the impressive door. It was intricately colored black, red, and gold with what appeared to be diamonds for its eyes and jade spinal fins and leg joint spikes.

He grabbed its mouth and lifted. It was even heavier than it looked, and it slipped from his hand. The single deep thud reverberated upward through the immense stone base far longer than it should. If they were expecting him, they seemed to take their time answering the door. While he waited, he turned around and enjoyed the view from the mountain. 

Soren cursed out loud. 

A well-maintained gravel road climbed the mountain and led to a parking area at the edge of the small village. There, speeding down the mountain on a perfectly good road, was the girl in the red barchetta. She had defied the store owner, anyway. 

“This way, please,” a voice said behind him. 

He whipped around, surprised. He never heard the door open. There was a middle-aged white man standing in the doorway. He motioned for Soren to follow. 

Taking one last quick look around, he stepped inside. As his guide closed the impressive door, he marveled at how easily it appeared to move, and how quiet it was. 

There was a passageway that led straight into the mountainside from the door, but his guide immediately turned right and began ascending a wide stairway set in the colossal stones. It did not take long to reach the main level. 

A castle, worthy of any historical buff’s consideration rose further into the air. It was octagon shaped with a tower at each point around the perimeter. A taller and larger tower dominated the center. There were bridges from the tops of the outer towers to an enormous deck about three quarters up the center tower. 

Outside the castle was a multitude of greenery, benches, comfortable and semi-private nooks, water fountains and fire pits. A variety of people took their leisure among the comfortable settings. A surprising feeling of peace painted the hard and imposing edifice. The weight of massive stones was muted by colorful plants, warming fires, laughter and never-ending enjoyable percussion music. Colorful birds sang while others flew aerial ballets. A small flight trilling in excitement as they nearly clipped his head. He couldn’t help but think of the Rush song Xanadu. 

The music was louder than below, but not overbearingly so. Normal conversation was still carried on without difficulty. As they approached the base of the castle, he saw numerous open archways allowing light and air into shops of some sort. As they drew close, he saw they were repair and fabrication shops, with food cafes and lounge areas scattered in between. 

As they passed through an arched opening into a passageway, the music grew louder still. He was very near the source. There were openings along both sides at regular intervals. Once he reached the first set of openings, Soren stopped. 

On the right was a woman. On the left was a man. Both sat centered in a ring of various percussion instruments. They were playing steadily, with a look of pure joy. The instruments rested on a giant elevated turntable that slowly rotated the instruments around the players seated in the center. Soren had never seen such a rig. The man must be Norris. Most of his kit were bongos and steel drums. 

He was enthralled by the music washing down the passageway. He did not know how long he stood watching and listening. Eventually, he noticed his guide standing patiently, watching him with a grin on his face. 

“I’m terribly sorry,” Soren said, slightly embarrassed, realizing he had been drumming the air in rhythm with those playing. 

“No need to apologize. This way, please.” 

As they walked, Soren looked in the rooms. All were dominated with drum kits resting on elevated turntables. Some had people playing, others not. He saw beds, dressers, stands, small tables and chairs arranged around the edge of each room. They all had small modern kitchens. In one room, he could see a modern restroom peeking out of an open door. He noticed a woman asleep on a bed. Each room was a self-sustained apartment. 

Is this all they did? Eat, sleep and play?

Arriving at the base of the central tower, he could see four passageways radiating out from it. Each passageway in line with a cardinal compass point. They had approached from the southern corridor. 

His guide opened the sliding door of an elevator in the center of the tower. It was an old open cage design, but so well maintained that it could be mistaken for almost brand new. The epitome of industrial style.

“Wow.” 

“You’re welcome to take the stairs if you prefer,” his guide gestured toward the stairway, beginning its long spiral upward, following the tower wall. 

“Oh no, I’m not complaining, just pleasantly surprised. There’s an interesting… juxtaposition here.”

The ride upwards was dizzying. The stairs spiraled around and around the elevator with windows puncturing the tower wall at regular intervals. The open cage design of the elevator meant it was entirely open to sight. Soren had to close his eyes to block out the dizzying effect of the stairs and windows flashing before him. He understood why some may take the stairs. 

The elevator finally stopped. His guide exited and turned back, waiting. Soren blinked to shake off the dizziness. The elevator could continue further up, but they had stopped. 

“Step out for a few minutes. The elevator can be disconcerting the first time. Come, enjoy the view for a brief spell and gather yourself. Before you decide how you wish to continue.” 

His guide walked through a small arched opening in the tower wall. He stepped out and followed, looking about, awestruck. They were on the enormous wooden deck! Comfortable furniture was scattered around, just like below. There were no fires, but plenty of water fountains, flowers, and exotic plants. The feeling of tranquility was incredible. The view of the world below was beyond words. 

“The rest of the way up I recommend you use the stairs,” his guide pointed to the tower. 

Turning back, he saw a well-maintained stairway spiraling on the outside of the tower, a mirror image to the stairway on the inside. 

“Why can’t I take the elevator the entire way?”

“You can if you wish. But I noticed it was bothering you. I’m stopping here, I need not continue further. Taking the stairs will give you a few moments to clear your head and enjoy the view. They are waiting for you when you are ready.”  
His guide nodded toward the stairs and turned without another word and walked toward a group of people lounging near a water fountain encircled by a trellis covered in a riot of flowers and greenery. 

Soren stood, taking it all in. What was this place? He never heard of anything like this. How did they seem to expect him? Why was he inexorably drawn here? And why did he have a growing urge to never leave? 

Only one way to find out. 

He chose the outside stairway. His guide was right. The incredible view, the wondrous fragrant mix of fires, flowers, and delicious foods, and the masterfully synced, strangely compelling rhythms rising from below all combined to wash away his worries and stress. By the time he had reached the top, a great peace had settled within him. This place was intoxicating in a peaceful, soul satisfying way. He wanted more of this! 

There was a large arched opening directly in front of him the moment he crested the top of the stairs. He was at the very top of the tower. An observation platform on top of the final room was the only thing higher. He could see furniture and people moving about inside and heard muffled conversation and laughter.

He paused only a moment, then entered. Three men and two women broke off their conversation. Their clothing did not fit their ethnicity. He was immediately intrigued. 

“Welcome Soren,” said a beautiful woman, grinning. She was from India yet dressed in clothes he saw while in Peru. 

“Care for a drink?” A British accented white man asked. He wore something from Vietnam or Thailand. 

“Yes please. Just water. Thank you.”

“You can relax, we won’t roast you and eat you. Have something more interesting than water,” said a black man in traditional Russian clothing. Soren couldn’t place his accent. It wasn’t Russian. 

“No thank you, just water. I do not want to impose.”

They all chuckled.

“You had a good look here. Does offering a drink to a guest appear as an imposition?” said a tall white man with an American mid-west accent. He wore a cowboy hat, which wildly conflicted with the Japanese kimono he wore. With the hat and accent, he expected to see cowboy boots. But he was barefoot. 

Soren couldn’t help but grin at the amusing paradoxes before him. 

“No, it doesn’t. But if it’s all the same, I’ll just have water, please. You’re from Iowa, aren’t you?” 

“You have a good ear. Yes, I was born and raised in Iowa. But this is my home now. Has been for some time. Here, I’ll trade you.” He handed Soren a tall glass of ice water and took his pack. 

“I spent some time there during a break in one of my bands tours. We hung out with the locals. It was a marvelous time. The memory stands out.” 

A low female laugh made him turn to the woman from India. 

“He is not here for small talk. He is eager to know why he is here. Do you all forget your first time standing here?”

Soren noticed four of them had been engaging him while a beautiful blonde-haired white woman, in a formfitting dress from India that was a rich purple trimmed in gold, lounged in an overstuffed chair behind them. Out of character for someone who wears such a commanding dress, she had one leg hooked over the right armrest, and she slowly swirled a half full wine glass in her hand hanging over the left armrest. She had the body language of a surly teenaged girl. But the eyes of a mature, intelligent woman. She had watched him in silence. 

“While I appreciate the hospitality, can we please skip the friendly banter for later? How is it you’re expecting me, and why? Are you the Rhythm Masters I’m supposed to meet?” He requested of the silent woman, never taking his eyes from her. 

She held his gaze a moment longer, then smiling stood up.

“We are all Rhythm Masters here, save you. We have watched you for a long time. You got our attention on April 27th, 1994. We have been following your career since. The rhythm is powerful in you. It was only a matter of time before you found your way here, so long as you did not sell your dreams for small desires.” 

He looked at her sharply, about to question her lyrics reference. Before he could speak, she turned toward the Iowan and handed him something small he couldn’t see. 

“I keep losing to you with this one. You have never wavered in your conviction of his determination and destiny. I should have learned my lesson the first five times.”

Lost in his own thoughts, Soren didn’t hear the Iowan’s reply. Why was that date familiar? They had watched him all this time. Why? In 1994 he was a kid in Virginia enjoying the beach, drinking, doing drugs, and going to concerts. 

That’s it! 

It was the date he saw Rush in concert the first time! It was their Counterparts Tour. It was the first time he met Neil Peart in person! It was the day he stopped dabbling with drums as a hobby and got serious. It changed the course of his life. He quickly replaced drinking and drugs with a non-stop desire to always be a better drummer than he had been the day before.

He suddenly realized no one was talking. The blonde had finished her exchange with the Iowan and was looking at him. The others had all placed themselves in a circle around him, standing in silence, watching him. 

“Why am I here?” 

“Have you not wondered about that desire, that itch deep inside that compels you to play and improve every day? To always perfect your skill and craft? You never got distracted by the hedonistic lifestyle of a rock band, did you? You never fell into that trap. Your drug of choice was your own rhythm. You preferred to get lost in it above all else. Have you not wondered why you hear a calling you have yet to fulfill or to understand?”

“How…” was all he could utter. She had just laid the very depths of his soul bare.

“That is why you are here. To answer that far off call that has whispered to you all your life. To see if you will ascend. To become a Rhythm Master.”

Speechless, he stared at her mouth hanging open. 

“You have a good ear. You forged and sculpted your incredible talent in the fires of experience. Listen now. Can you pick out the individual players?”

He closed his mouth and listened. The music that had not stopped since he arrived seemed to grow louder. Or was it he had tuned it out for a while? Soren collected himself. This was the test his entire life had led him to. 

He listened for a time, counting off the different players to the surrounding masters. This went on for some time as they all stood silently watching with expectant looks. 

Wait, what was that? 

He picked out another player he had not realized was there. Their music seemed familiar, yet unknown at the same time. It underlaid all the other players. It complimented the others so seamlessly. No wonder he never picked it out. He listened to this masterful rhythm, enthralled. Its control and precision were beyond belief. He couldn’t believe how flawless it was!

Wait! It didn’t complement the others; the others were complimenting it! This unknown player was setting the rhythm for all the others! 

He was overcome with joy as he listened to the whole. How were so many playing in such incredible harmony? It was impossible! Letting go of the surrounding distractions, he truly listened. Closing his eyes, he felt the beats in his body. He felt the waves of rhythm washing over and through him. The rhythm of so many players in synchronicity was enthralling. It was seamless. It was beyond perfection. He was so caught up in the symphony, he never realized he was drumming the air in perfect rhythm with the rest of them. 

“Soren.”

He opened his eyes and blinked. The blonde woman stood before him with a smile. How long had he stood there? By the angle of the sun light outside, he had stood lost in the music for more than an hour!

“Damn! I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly. 

“Do not be sorry, be happy. You passed.” An amused grin on her face. 

The others left the way he had entered without saying a word. The Iowan with Soren’s pack slung over his shoulder. 

“Follow me Soren.” 

She walked to a stairway leading down at the back of the room. They descended one level and boarded the waiting elevator car. Once it started down, she turned to him. 

“Now you must face the Perpetual Rhythm. This will determine your destiny. I would tell you to prepare yourself. However, you have never faced such a thing in your life. Doing so is akin to asking an ant to prepare to meet the ocean. It could not conceive of such a thing, let alone prepare for it.”

“I don’t understand. Perpetual rhythm? Never ending rhythm, unstoppable rhythm? What are you talking about? That makes no sense.” 

“All your questions will be answered shortly.”

Saying no more, she merely watched him for the rest of the journey down. He was so lost and nervous by this sudden turn of events; the elevator ride did not bother him this time.

The elevator finally stopped at what appeared to be the bottom of the shaft. They were at the very base of the monolithic structure. It was less oppressive than he expected, so deep in the heart of such a massive stone edifice. It was clean and bright. But he only noticed such details in passing. The extraordinary musician who was underlying them all was here. That music was the loudest now. It sounded like it was right around the corner.

And it was. 

She led him around the elevator to an open archway. Centered in a sizeable room, a man played at a nearly frantic pace. The room was poorly lit. The only light was a soft glow that somehow came from the man and his instruments. Mist rose from the stone floor, spilling into the passageway. Every percussion instrument he had ever seen, and many he hadn’t, slowly rotated around the man. How they rotated, he couldn’t quite see. It wasn’t like the turntables in the other rooms. They seemed to appear, floating out of the haze on one side and pass before the drummer as he played, then disappear on the other side. 

The man’s eyes were closed. Pure joy on his face. He seemed incredibly familiar, as if Soren should know him. But light and shadow danced, and it was hard to see. There was a strange otherworldliness to him. He felt an immense weight, as if he were before someone or something of unimaginable significance. 

“This is actually the test your entire life has led you too, Soren. Not what happened above. Enjoy yourself.” She turned and left the room. 

He never had time to be shocked at how she seemed to read his mind. Or why she said enjoy himself instead of good luck. Or how he could still hear her clearly over the sound of drums being played so vigorously. The mistiness and shadows had cleared for a moment. The man opened his eyes and looked at Soren. Shock and surprise bolted through him. It was Neil Peart!

“I thought you were dead!”

“I change mortal coils as you change clothes.” 

“What?”

“I occasionally frequent the planets of all intelligent life in the universe. Beyond the walls of the rhythm temples. Spending a mortal cycle among them. Replenishing the gift of rhythm. Choosing those worthy of the title Rhythm Master.”

He could only blink, speechless. 

“Why are you here?” Neil had slowed his pace considerably, but never stopped drumming.

Soren’s mouth worked, uttering only silence. He couldn’t process everything he was experiencing in this moment. The shock of seeing his idol up close and alive, and the things he just said rendered him stunned and speechless.

“Have you come all this way, Soren, to stand before me mute? Why are you here?”

He took a step back, overwhelmed. He couldn’t form a coherent thought, let alone speak. A thousand questions shot through his mind like a hurricane. Yet those questions seemed insignificant. Irrelevant. He couldn’t process everything Neil had just said to him. Or that he was alive and playing drums like he had been here all along.

“Just breathe Soren. Take a deep breath, collect yourself, and tell me why you are here.”

Neil’s voice cut through his mental mayhem. He blinked and took a long, deep breath. 

“Why does the world think you’re dead? When you’re not?”

“This mortal cycle among humans has ended. I am not what you think.”

This only confused him further.

“Why didn’t you tell me about all of this when you asked me to find the Rhythm Masters? Why all the mystery and all those wasted years?”

“Because nothing of value is free. Valuable things require significant effort. I needed to be sure of your determination. I needed to know if great effort without results would turn you away. Why are you here Soren?” 

“I’m here to face the Perpetual Rhythm.” 

“You stand before it.”

“That?” pointing to the rotating percussion instruments. 

“No, me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Everything in the universe is in a state of motion. All motion is rhythm. I create the rhythm. I keep the universe in motion.” 

“I love your imagination; it makes for the greatest songs I’ve ever heard. But you believe this, don’t you? Have you gotten lost in your own imagination?”

“How do you explain your three-day rhythm binge? You felt a calling and a power you could not deny or explain. How do you explain what you see before you now? Can you feel it?”

He could not argue this. He could not explain the otherworldly experience he had when he played for three days non-stop. He couldn’t explain how the various instruments before him seemed to appear and disappear out of the gloominess of the room, attached to nothing. 

“I can’t explain my rhythm binge, or your crazy instruments. But I do feel it. I feel the rhythm of the music.”

“No, that is not what I meant. Do you feel the universe moving?”

“I felt… something. At the end of my marathon session. I could see, no, I could feel the atoms moving in everything around me. So yes, I felt the universe moving.”

“You never scratched the surface. But it was the beginning of your next journey. You have started down a path that most in the universe cannot conceive of, let alone comprehend. 

“Moving the entire universe is a terrible struggle. Long ago, I began seeking the aid of others. When I dwell among intelligent life for a cycle, I seek those who are prime movers. Those with great potential. I give them the gift of rhythm. If they do not falter along the way I then test them. If they pass, I enlist them to aid me in moving the universe through rhythm. 

“When I visit a planet, I am like the pebble dropped in a pond. The ripples affecting many generations before I am needed to replenish the gift of rhythm once again. The strength of those ripples, and how far they travel, determined by those I choose as Rhythm Masters.

“The chosen are tested and deemed worthy or fail. I have chosen you, Soren. Either face me or turn away from the rhythm forever. Destiny awaits your decision.”

Neil picked up the pace to a nearly impossible frantic level, as if trying to catch up to something. He went over everything Neil just said. This was craziness! Was the man insane? Feeling the universe move? One man keeps the entire universe in motion? Surely, he must have gone mad and was lost in his own wild imagination! 

But how could one man’s insanity affect so many others? Certainly not everyone here shared the same delusions. Or do they? Stranger things have happened. Yet, he did not think mass delusion was happening here. He could not rationally explain his three-day binge, or the things he was seeing. He could not deny the powerful force that emanated from Neil. He could see and feel waves radiating from Neil, in time with the rhythm he beat out. 

“How can we speak while you’re playing?”

“Because I make it so.”

Soren’s face twisted with frustration at such a vague confused answer.

“That’s not really an answer.”

“You will understand, shortly.”

“What do you mean, turn away from the rhythm forever?”

Neil slowed his pace once again. 

“You have a gift. That gift has a purpose. If you refuse to face me, that gift will be removed. You will be denied the joy of rhythm for the rest of your life. You will be unable to play any instrument. You will not even hear music. You will hear silence where music plays. If you face me and fail, you keep the gift. But you will forever ache for a higher calling you cannot achieve. Your grand purpose, unfulfilled.” 

“That’s not much of a choice. Where is my freewill in this? And destiny awaits my decision? I thought we were at the mercy of fate, not the other way around.”

“You have a choice. And the freewill to make it. Fate is no guiding hand. It’s just the weight of circumstances, remember?”

Soren’s face colored at being schooled by Neil Peart on such a neophyte slip. He could not explain how he knew, but it was true. He must do this or suffer the loss of his greatest love. To not hear or play music! That was something he could barely comprehend. 

“Allow me to remove your doubts.” Neil played a little riff and nodded sharply at Soren. 

He saw in his mind everything Neil had been explaining. Was he dreaming? He knew what drug-induced hallucinations were, this was not one. The room disappeared. He was everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. 

He saw the entire universe. 

He saw and felt the rhythm that moved it. 

He saw the entity that existed on well over a centillion worlds simultaneously. 

He saw that entity playing an unknown multitude of celestial instruments, sending waves of motion across the universe. 

This was the Perpetual Rhythm. 

The universe disappeared in a speeding blur and he was back in the misty room staring at Neil. He gasped at the shock of it all. He still felt echoes of the universe in him, but as a distant whispered voice calling him. 

He had a sudden compulsion to play that bordered on an addiction. Neil stopped playing, stepped out of the circling instruments and slowly backed away, watching Soren closely without saying a word.

The moment Neil had stopped, he could sense all motion in the universe beginning to slow immediately. He felt compelled to play to keep it moving. But these were Neil Peart’s instruments! Many were odd and unknown to him. He wasn’t about to play them without asking! 

“The universe is slowing Soren, what will you do?” Neil whispered from the shadows.

It was a severe breach of etiquette to play another drummer's kit without permission. He wasn’t about to make such a colossal mistake with the greatest drummer in the world!

“In just this short time, dozens of worlds have suffered natural disasters, because they are slowing. What will you do?” 

Conflict blossomed inside of Soren. He moved forward but stopped immediately. Indecision flooding him. He knew he had to play Neil’s crazy kit to keep the universe in motion. But social mores made him hesitate. 

“Another dozen planets have escaped their star and are lost to deep space. Time is short Soren. Make your decision!” 

The longer Neil wasn’t playing, the more panic set into him. The universe was slowing. It would stop! That must not happen! 

“But… I can’t… your…” he sputtered, indecision paralyzing him. 

“Your fate is before you! Decide!”

Leaping into the ring of circling instruments, he quickly began playing. His awareness expanding beyond imagination the moment he started. He could sense where molecular motion was slowing in the things around him. He knew he must play, to drive the motion of the universe. He must! He was the prime mover!

At first the moving instruments caused him confusion, and he faltered. Movement around him slowed further. He panicked. No! He must play! The universe depended on him! He missed beats and even dropped sticks as his panic consumed him.

“Breathe. There is time. Pause a moment. Relax and feel the rhythm. It is within you. Listen to it. Give in to it.” Neil whispered to him from somewhere. 

He stopped trying to play for a moment, closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He forced himself to relax. The instruments circled slowly around him as he listened to his own rhythm. It synced with the slowly swirling instruments. He embraced it. Felt it surge upward. It demanded release! His fingers tingled with energy. No longer able to contain it, he let his rhythm loose in a furious explosion. A joyous smile on his face. 

His consciousness rode the waves of rhythm outward as he played. In a flash he was through the temple, the village, and into the world. Awe suddenly flooded him as he realized other life on earth also created rhythm. Whales, dolphins, bats, birds, and even insects all added to the rhythmic vibration of the universe. 

He left earth, spending a few moments marveling at the rhythmic dance of the solar system. All matter in the system locked in a vibrant, exquisite symphony of movement. 

He raced into the galaxy and was nearly overwhelmed by the complexity of so much synchronized movement. Rhythm splashing outward from trillions upon trillions of rhythm temples around the galaxy. 

When he looked outward to the universe, he nearly shut down. It was more than he could bear. The universe existed so far beyond human knowledge it was incomprehensible. He felt smothered, crushed. 

“Just breathe. Relax. Don’t fight the rhythm, give into it,” Neil whispered.

He felt the pressure ease at Neil’s words. Understanding blossomed within him. He surrendered himself completely, letting go of all fear and doubt. 

He felt it all. The entire universe in motion. There were no words for such exquisite grandeur. But it was all so simple! He instantly knew where he was needed. He traveled the universe in a blink, playing a quick beat here, a long run there. Any place that slowed was instantly known. He flew there in a thought and played out his rhythm until motion had accelerated and stabilized.

He was in ecstasy! He never wanted to stop playing. This is what he had been missing. This was his purpose! 

He realized he was playing instruments from across the universe. He was playing alien instruments crafted on other worlds. An unbelievable amount of life existed in the universe! Humanity was not alone! So many other intelligent life forms! He played instruments from them all, knowing exactly how to play them. He knew exactly which ones and in what order they needed to be. Child’s play!

There wasn’t a human name for the number of Rhythm Masters across the universe. Each world that harbored intelligent life had many hundreds, sometimes thousands, of Rhythm Masters. The amount of life contributing to the universal rhythm on each of these worlds was beyond the human mind to grasp. The number of planets harboring intelligent life was beyond human imagination or comprehension.

He reached out and focused on one planet far beyond where humanity thought the universe ended. He was drawn to an edifice very similar to the one he was in. He was seated in the same place in this alien rhythm temple as he was on earth. There were many Rhythm Masters playing in this single temple. They all knew he was there and acknowledged him. 

Did they think he was Neil? No, they knew who he was. As one, they saluted him with a distinctive run, knowing grins on their alien faces. They knew he was being tested!

He now understood why he saw the Perpetual Rhythm existing simultaneously on every world that harbored intelligent life. Its presence created a complex, interconnected web of rhythm. 

He felt a pull on his consciousness. Time to move. He was needed. 

There! 

Now there!

Over here! 

Don’t stop! 

He would salute Rhythm Masters here, and others there, as he flashed by. And they would salute him in return with the same musical run. He couldn’t believe what he was experiencing, what he was a part of! This was beyond his wildest dreams!

He played and played, driving the motion of the universe. The joy of it all was beyond description. He danced to the ebb and flow of the universe. It sang to him songs of exquisite beauty, almost painful to behold.

On to the next! There! Oh, the joy of playing! He was in heaven. Never let it stop! I am needed. Over there! 

Faster, move faster! The universe is slowing! 

He struggled to keep the pace.

He must move faster!

He felt pain.

Over there, the universe was slowing, play faster!

His playing slowed. 

No! He must not stop! 

He was tiring.

The universe must move! 

Pain! His entire body hurt. 

Keep playing, keep playing!

Excruciating pain!

No, no, no, don’t stop! 

He faltered and fell from the seat. The universe disappeared. He was back in the misty room. Neil was helping him up. As much as he hurt, he still panicked and bolted for the seat. Neil held him in place easily. 

“Stop.”

“I must play! The universe is slowing!”

“Stop! It is OK. You can stop playing.”

“No! You don’t understand! I cannot stop! The universe is slowing! I must play!”

“Soren, stop! I understand!”

Neil’s voice cut through him like thunder. Soren relaxed and looked at him.

“You cannot play forever. You are not that kind of entity. You do not have the required strength. You must stop and rest. You faced me and have been transformed. A new Rhythm Master has arrived. You have time to help me. But now you must stop and rest.”

He felt other hands lifting him. Neil seated himself and began playing without looking at Soren. The kimono wearing Iowan and the Russian accented black man were on either side of him, lifting him nearly off his feet. They started for the elevator. The blonde glanced back at him leading the way. The largest smile he had yet seen on her face. 

He felt differently now. He could feel rhythm, vibration, movement with his entire being. It emanated from all matter around him. He saw everything vibrating, as a pulsating, radiating aura. Transformed indeed. 

“Wait!” He quickly demanded. 

He twisted around to look back, forcing everyone to stop. 

He blinked in disbelief. Neil was gone. In his place was the demiurgic entity in its true form. As he watched, its body changed to a different form with every beat of a new instrument. It took the form of whatever species of life that instrument belonged to. Occasionally it would become Neil for a moment as it struck an earthly instrument. 

He understood now. It kept the entire universe in perpetual motion by playing rhythms. All drums and rhythmic instruments from across the universe were arrayed in a circle around it, and they rotated around it and appeared and disappeared at the correct moments, all at its wordless command. 

Neil Peart had always been here since the beginning of time. He would continue as the absolute drummer for all eternity. Soren suddenly realized how fortunate he was to be alive when the Perpetual Rhythm of the universe walked the earth as Neil Peart. How incredibly lucky he was to be chosen as a Rhythm Master. He was humbled beyond words.

He understood his destiny. He was a Rhythm Master now. A mere mortal whose purpose was to help move the universe. His life was barely a flicker in time, yet important to an eternal celestial entity. He nodded his thanks to the men holding him and stood on his own.

“Where is my room?” He calmly asked the blonde.

“Follow me.” She turned and led the way.

She took him to a room on the second level in the southern wing. She stopped at the open archway and gestured inside. 

“This is yours. For as long as you are here. These instruments are just a start. You are free to change and add what instruments you prefer to play and what order you want them in.”

That’s what all the shops are for, he realized. 

“How do I pay for this? I have a considerable amount of money from my successful career. Who do I pay?” 

“You do not. What we do here transcends such matters. The Perpetual Rhythm ensures that all such mortal matters are handled without issue. Do not concern yourself. Give your money to whoever, or whatever you like. You will not be needing it any longer.”

She started to leave but turned back.

“A word of advice. Give yourself time to practice. Limit yourself to our solar system at first.” 

“But why? I could travel the entire universe just moments ago, but now you’re telling me I must limit myself?”

“That was only possible because of the test. So that you understand, completely. As a Rhythm Master, you are free to travel where you want, no one is stopping you. It is a matter of being mortal and not having the strength. You will limit yourself. You will know how far you can comfortably go. You do not have to cover it all. Trust the others you saw out there are doing their part. And your fellow rhythm mates here.”

“I… understand. I promise I will pace myself and not overextend and burnout.” He grinned at her.

“Oh, I know you will. Your body will enforce that far more efficiently than anyone of us could. We are not your keepers. We are your rhythm mates. Welcome Soren. Welcome to the unity of Rhythm Masters.”

Smiling, she turned and started to leave.

“Wait! The beautiful woman in the village. What is her name?” 

The blonde stopped and looked back, her smile turning slightly mischievous. 

“Why not ask her yourself.” 

The two women exchanged a familiar look as they passed each other. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

The room vanished except for her. He was suddenly uncomfortably warm. 

“Yes. What is your name?” 

“Larissa.” 

“Larissa. Beautiful, and fitting. I’ve wanted to ask you that for years.”

She smiled. 

“And when you kissed me. Did Neil…” He was suddenly unsure how to address a cosmic entity. “Did he, ah… it. Um, did the Perpetual Rhythm ask you to do that to get me here?” 

Larissa laughed at his awkwardness. The look in her eyes showing him she wasn’t being spiteful, but playfully teasing him. 

“No. The kiss was all me.” 

The heat rose in Soren even more with that. Suddenly words were useless as everything vanished except her beautiful eyes. 

“Can I get you anything before you play?” She asked, breaking the spell with a smile. 

Soren blinked, cleared his throat, and came back to earth. 

“Anything with caffeine in it, please. And are there any of those incredible pepperoni rolls they make in West Virginia, here?”

“Yes, the bakeries make those. I will bring some.” Her playful smile full of promise of wonderful things to come.

He grinned back. His stare lingering on the open doorway even after she had left. His dreams couldn’t compare to the genuine thing. She was exquisite! He realized her personality was even more magnetic than her fantastic looks. He was beyond hooked. Well, there’s plenty of time to pursue those possibilities later, he thought. 

He focused his attention on his new home. It was clean and well lit. His pack was lying on the bed. As he looked everything over, he could not stop looking at the various drums and percussion instruments resting on the turntable in the center of the room. They drew his attention more and more. 

As tired as he was, he could not fight it any longer. He seated himself in the center. The instruments began rotating automatically. This time he had no trouble with the moving instruments. The reason for their movement was so obvious now. Without a conscious thought, he instantly synced his playing to the perpetual rhythm emanating below. He was immediately aware of all motion on earth. He saw it all as rhythm. 

He was joyous at playing for such an enormous, unifying, universal purpose. He would never leave this place again. He would die here one day. Part of his life’s journey had found its end. A new one was beginning. A life of grand purpose beyond all imagination. 

He grinned at a thought. 

No wonder Neil Peart was the best drummer in the world. He always had been, and always would be, the perpetual rhythm of the universe. 

Soren would rest later. 

The rhythm called. 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer
> 
> Perpetual Rhythm is a work of science fiction. In absolutely no way am I implying anything in this story is real. The actions and words of every character are pure fiction. Especially those of the late Mr. Neil Peart. 
> 
> Nothing in my story is meant to disrespect, disparage, or imply falsehoods or facts about Mr. Peart, his family, or the remaining members of the band Rush. 
> 
> Perpetual Rhythm is exclusively meant as my personal homage to the late Mr. Neil Peart, drummer for the band Rush. 
> 
> Dedication
> 
> I was inspired to write Perpetual Rhythm one week after Mr. Peart’s death, after reading what I consider an epic writing prompt by a friend and fellow Rush fan. I owe the creation of this story to Christopher Cook’s wonderful bit of creativity. 
> 
> Perpetual Rhythm is my incredibly small and humble way of honoring Mr. Neil Peart, who had a significant impact on my life through his song lyrics and musical talents.
> 
> A Rush of Serenity
> 
> The most serene road trip of my entire life was made possible because of Rush. 
> 
> After immensely enjoying Rush in concert on June 21st, 1992 (Roll the Bones tour) in Pittsburgh PA, I had a two-hour trip home to western Maryland. It had been a very hot summer day, and it was still in the low 90’s at midnight. The local radio station continued to play nothing but Rush songs for hours after the concert. Late at night, I had the roads to myself with the windows down in a classic 1966 Chevy Chevelle. 
> 
> It was as close to a few hours of perfect serenity as I have ever experienced in my life. I would be extremely remiss if I could not in some very small way honor at least one of those who gave me such a wonderful gift.


End file.
